


In Another Life

by skybeep



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Will isn't in directly in the fic but he's mentioned, if you've seen antipasto and know who antony is this shouldn't be spoilery, it still isn't that kind of party but..., this is weirdly romantic lol, though hannibal is still a cannibal, vegetarian friendly, written as a belated birthday present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4239222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybeep/pseuds/skybeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another life, Hannibal may have been able to spare him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Another Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saji](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saji/gifts).



> The fandom has named him Anthony Dimmond, but in NBC's closed captioning his name is written as "Antony Dimmond," and so that's the spelling I've chosen to use. That's all, enjoy.

"Is it that kind of party?"

  
The look in Bedelia's eyes said no before Hannibal could respond. He looked amused nonetheless, holding himself back from giving Antony a regretful look as he answered: "No, it's not that kind of party."

  
Relief from Bedelia as she added, "No, it really isn't."

  
But from Antony--

  
"Shame. You were both suddenly so fascinating."

  
It wasn't until after Mr. Dimmond attended Roman Fell's lecture, his lecture, that Hannibal could think the same of Antony. Discussing torture instruments and the true Dr. Fell's fate had Hannibal feeling slightly disappointed about how all of this would end. How it _had_ to end, now that Antony knew far too much and was getting far too curious. Certainly, there was the fact that he hadn't gone to the police. He'd stayed for the lecture, stayed after out of curiosity. He'd even lied to Sogliato's face, knowing that the man in front of him was an imposter. It was appealing enough that--

  
"I'm here to help you untwist, to our mutual benefit."

  
Antony's comment had Hannibal pausing before he smiled, absorbing the once-over and the amused look he was given. Hannibal followed after Antony as the man started for the exit, asking him, "Won't you let me have you for dinner?"

  
The question was met with a warm chuckle and Antony glanced over his shoulder, eyes crinkled at the corners despite the fact that he was trying not to look _too_ pleased. The look said yes, and the fact that Antony didn't ask more questions on the way back to his home only cemented the feeling that he wasn't going to make any rash decisions about any of this. Not until he knew all the facts, not unless he felt genuinely threatened.

  
Bedelia had her coat on when they arrived.

  
She'd left the lecture early, after Antony had arrived. Her bag was in her hand. Hannibal wasn't stupid. He let Antony in before he entered the house himself, Antony giving her a nod as he passed by and proceeded on past her. Hannibal followed him in, giving Bedelia a once-over as if he was only just then noticing the way she looked.

  
"Going somewhere?" he asked, not sounding the least bit suspicious, and she let out a pained breath. Hannibal had her.

  
"No," she answered, dropping her bag. Hannibal smiled.

  
"Have a glass of wine."

  
"I was planning to have _several_." Bedelia seemed exasperated, but she didn't move to leave.

  
Antony pretended to tune their conversation out, though Hannibal could see the tiny twitch of a near-smile when she answered him. He was viewing the tiny bust Hannibal had of Aristotle, a small marble figure he kept on a table in the sitting room.

  
In another life, Hannibal may have been able to spare him. Hannibal walked over, mentioning, "Artistotle once said that the antidote for fifty enemies is one friend." That got him an amused look as he stopped beside Antony. When they stood close like this, the fact that Antony was a few inches taller was a bit pronounced. Antony seemed to notice that, too, with how he shifted closer and looked down at him. Almost _predatory,_ amusingly.

  
"Intend on remedying something through me?"

  
"On the contrary," Hannibal answered, his hand moving to grasp the bust. "I intend on causing more."

  
That got a look of confusion, and, despite everything Hannibal intended to do, he didn't budge. Antony looked concerned, his eyes clearly fearful as they followed the line of Hannibal's arm down to stare at his hand and the heavy marble bust it held. A beat.

  
Another life.

  
"How Roman loved to be feared. You're certainly adapting to being him quite quickly."

  
"It seems I am," Hannibal agreed, and let go of the statue. Antony had sounded nervous, but at least he hadn't panicked.

  
Bedelia, wide-eyed, finally managed to turn away. She shrugged off her coat, hung it up, and didn't look back at either of the men in the sitting room before she started up to her bedroom to lock herself in with a bottle of wine and remain there for the rest of the night. Hannibal didn't have to say a word for her to know that she'd bitten off more than she could chew with him. He let her go without comment, his eyes following her form until it was out of sight.

  
"Truth be told," Antony mentioned, his voice neutral, managing to hide how nervous he was quite well, "I ate before your lecture. I didn't come here for dinner."

  
Hannibal looked back to Antony. "I didn't invite you here for dinner."

  
Antony swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He seemed quite pleased at where this was leading, afraid as he was. His own decisions were reminding him of a moth flirting with a flame, waiting to fly too close and light his wings on fire -- or melt them off, if he wanted to change his cliché moth metaphor into a cliché Icarus one. This was why it took him so long to write poems. "It seems we both had different intentions, then," he replied.

  
Different intentions indeed. Hannibal didn't mention that Antony should be glad his initial intention hadn't been fulfilled -- the other man probably had some idea of it, given the fact that he looked like he was on-edge, and he was likely grateful that Hannibal's mind could be changed.

  
Hannibal gently touched his arm, nudging gently and intending to lead him out of the room. "Why don't I show you another part of the house?"

 

* * *

  
Given everything, the evening went well. The next week did, too. Sogliato, annoying and rude as he was, served the same purpose Hannibal had intended for Antony: he ended up disappearing, and, after a very long train ride and a trip on a ferry, the man's body showed up again as a broken heart in Palermo. Hannibal had imagined the roof of the church caving in as he watched Will Graham later. Fantasized about it, shortly before retreating into the catacombs and deciding that now was not the time for an emotional reunion between the two of them.

  
Being forgiven, after everything, was an odd experience.

 

* * *

 

  
Blood stained the sheets.

  
"Shit, are you alright--?"

  
"I'll survive," Hannibal replied, lying flat. His eyes shut, he let out a heavy sigh.

  
Eyebrows knitted together, Antony leaned over him. Hannibal could feel his face being stared at, examined. The cuts on it shouldn't be surprising, he thought to himself. Not after what he'd told Antony via text.

  
He felt Antony's fingers pressing just under his split lip in an attempt to stem the bleeding. No use, since it would be pulled open again and again every time Hannibal spoke for the next hour or so. None of his injuries were more than flesh wounds, so he wasn't too concerned. Antony evidently was. Hannibal couldn't help that.

  
"Would you like me to make you feel better, love?"

  
That had Hannibal opening his eyes, only slightly, glancing up at Antony through his eyelashes. The man looked so much like Will Graham, with his blue eyes and scruffy face and curled hair. He even had attached earlobes. It took conscious effort for Hannibal to keep himself from going too far down that path: he had to remind himself of how different Antony really was, with his accent and his height and the baby face he had when he actually shaved.

  
Still.

  
"Yes, _please_."

  
A soft smile from Antony as the man pulled his sweater up, and Hannibal's eyes shut, his own jaw going slack as Antony started pressing kisses down his chest. What a world of comfort having someone at home in this life could be.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Perry, even though I'm a couple weeks late and it's actually my birthday now. Whoops.


End file.
